


The Hounds Pit Pub

by DaniStormborn



Series: Dunwall City Stories [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8765662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniStormborn/pseuds/DaniStormborn
Summary: Searching for answers mere months after her Empire is saved from the clutches of Delilah Copperspoon, Empress Emily Kaldwin finds herself at the decrepit Hounds Pit Pub. She doesn't get the answers she seeks, at least . . . at least not yet. First, she needs to hear a story . . .





	

Broken glass and rubble littered the ground and crunched underfoot as they entered the back courtyard, the wrought iron gate swinging open on rusted hinges. It had been years – a little over a decade, even – since the both of them had been back here. Their eyes took in the crumbling tower, where She had spent months out of her childhood with Callista, learning things she already knew. The boarded-up workshop where Piero built the things He had used to save her and the Empire, and to avenge her mother’s death. There was what used to be Samuel’s ramshackle lean-to over near the dock that he had dwelt in during that long year and a few months' worth of pain, and bloodshed, and uncertainty.

 

The Hounds Pit Pub rose high above them, its brick façade crumbling in places, however, the shell was still largely intact. Some of the windows had been knocked out, the other’s, boarded-up, as was the front door. The only way to get inside the Pub, was through the gate at the back, and only one person in the entire Empire held a key to it, and that was Her.

 

Still . . . her eyes silently took in the long plume of gray smoke that rose from one of the Pub’s chimneys, and she found herself wondering of other ways to reach the inside of the Pub. She supposed that there were other’s . . . He would know more, but she did not ask. He stood, tall, and silent, and stoic behind her. She wasn’t about to bother him with something that didn’t alarm her, only intrigued her.

 

They kept this minuscule part of the city cordoned off, for reasons that remained unknown and silly to them. And after all the years, after everyone had moved on from what had happened, who would be so interested in getting inside the Hounds Pit Pub and making it their home?

 

“Wait here, I’m going inside.”

 

“ _Emily_!”

 

His voice cut through the still air that surrounded them, heavy in it’s warning, and Emily Kaldwin – _Empress_ Emily Kaldwin again now, for the second time – turned around to gaze at him. Their eyes met, matching colors in two faces that vaguely resembled the other’s. She gave her father a slightly tight smile, but said nothing. Corvo Attano’s concern for his daughter’s safety was founded on a father’s paranoia, as well as decades of honing an instinct to protect. He had also just saved her, and her Empire, from a force he had barely been able to take on. Emily understood that, but at the same time . . . she was Empress. He could not stop her.

 

“Father, I’ll be fine.” She told him, quietly, and after a moment’s brief hesitation, Corvo nodded. It wasn’t so long ago that he traveled all-throughout his home country of Serkonos to free her and the Empire from the clutches of Delilah Copperspoon. And while for now, they were safe again, Corvo often found himself wondering if they would ever, truly, be safe again.

 

“Fine. I’ll be out here, by the door. You need me, just call.” He relented, finally, and after a space of time went by that made Emily seriously wonder if he definitely _wasn’t_ going to let her walk in there alone.

 

After a brief hesitation, she reached out and opened the door to the pub. The door swung open on rusty hinges, and she stepped inside the dim space, devoid of electricity and other such luxuries. Briefly, it occurred to her that the person (or people) who were inhabiting the pub, were simply squatters, but then quickly brushed that thought aside. Squatters wouldn’t have had the drive to make it past the defenses to get here, _then_ to find a way into the actual pub. No, her heart told her that the person (or people) were here because they _wanted_ her to find them.

 

“Hello?” She called out, her voice reverberating off the empty space. She slowly moved further into the darkened pub, boots crunching on splintered glass, sharp eyes taking in much and noticing everything. “You are currently trespassing on property owned by the crown. If you do not vacate the premises, then I must --”

 

She had silently drawn her sword by then, and a subsequent cackling caused her to come to a stop, as well as to interrupt her mid-sentence. “No need for steel here, Empress!” An old woman cackled as she moved slowly into view. She was tall, willowy, graceful. Her deeply lined face and cataract-white eyes still whispered of a beauty long since faded. She stopped by the corner of the bar, held herself straight, and smiled. “My little birdies told me you’d be coming, Empress.”

 

For a moment, Emily stood there, brows furrowed in slight confusion at who she was seeing. It was impossible – simply impossible for this woman to be standing here in front of her. Corvo told her he had killed her a little over a decade ago, to save Slackjaw’s life. If that was true, then how in the Void was Granny Rags standing here before her now?

 

The smile on Granny Rags’ face grew a little bit wider, a little more sly – secretive, even -- almost as if she could read her thoughts. “Oh, Granny is tougher than you think, dearie – oh yes! That mean man hurt me for a while, hurt me badly, but I healed. Oh yes, I healed. The Outsider takes care of his faithful, oh yes, he does. Even as he stands in splendor with his Queen on Pandyssia.”

 

Emily shook her head, but did sheath her sword all the same. She came in peace. At least until she was given a reason not to. “What do you mean, Granny?” She asked, slowly, and Granny released a teasing hum as she moved further into the pub, towards the hot stove that was the source of the smoke billowing forth from the chimney outside.

 

“What do I mean? Oh, nothing, dearie – nothing much, anyway. What I _am_ interested in knowing, though, is why you are _here_. Why are you here to visit Granny, my pretty little Empress lamb? That, my little birdies have _not_ been able to tell me.”

 

Emily shook her head. “We cordoned off this entire area. Entry is forbidden to everyone except for Corvo and I. One of our sentries saw smoke coming from one of the chimneys and let us know. We decided to investigate.”

 

One of Granny Rags’ eyebrows rose. “And you came alone?”

 

“Corvo is outside.”

 

“But you came in _alone_?”

 

After a moment of silence, Emily nodded. “Yes. I came in alone.”

 

Granny gave a slow nod at this, releasing another, more thoughtful hum as she did so. “You are a brave Empress. But be careful you do not confuse bravery with foolishness, your Majesty. Your father, Corvo . . . sometimes, it could be argued that he liked to confused the two. Many, for instance, think it was pure foolishness to allow Daud freedom when all he had to do was slice his throat or plunge his sword deep into his heart when he was at his weakest.”

 

“But he didn’t,” Emily spoke, her voice hardening. “And for good reason: Daud ceased to be a threat.”

 

“A threat?” Granny Rags’ released a wispy, almost incredulous laugh. “He killed your mother! He killed the previous Empress! How is that not a threat?”

 

“Simple: I am not my mother.”

 

Another, tenser, more dangerous silence stretched between them then, and after a moment, Granny Rags gave another slow nod. “No . . . no you are not, dearie. My little birdies can see that now.” She released a long held-in breath then as her thin arms moved to cross in front of her even thinner bosom. “If not Daud then, what about someone closer to the heart – High Overseer Teague Martin, for instance, still lives as well. As did Treavor Pendleton for a time. Only Admiral Havelock met his end at the end of Corvo’s blade. Why allow Martin to live? He did, after all, help orchestrate the plot to kidnap you and put you on the throne as a puppet Empress. He was closer to you than Daud ever was. All he had to do was _reach out_ . . . and _snuff_ you. Why let him live?”

 

Emily remained quiet again, feeling keenly that this wasn’t just a normal debate, but a _test_. The only question was: how to pass?

 

She shook her head. “Corvo didn’t say.”

 

Granny Rags smiled then. “Do you want to know why Corvo allowed Daud and Teague Martin to live? Why he had also allowed Treavor Pendleton his life? Love, dearie. He allowed them to live for love.”

 

Emily recoiled from her words, her eyes growing wide with surprise. “ _Love_? Are you telling me he allowed them to live because he _loved_ them?”

 

Granny Rags threw back her head and laughed then, hard and loud. When she was done, she shook her head. “Oh no, dearie, not because _he_ loved them, but because _they_ were loved. Haven’t you ever wondered why Venetica Attano disappeared after the death of your mother?”

 

Emily shook her head. “I did, when I was little. When I was here with Callista. She was my mother’s dearest friend, Corvo’s wife; I thought . . . I thought that maybe something had happened to her too. But many years ago, Corvo took me to Serkonos, just outside of Cullero – to meet an old friend, he said. When we got there . . . when we got there, it was her. Her, and Daud, and their children, but . . . she still carries father’s name: Attano, because . . . because the Abbey disallows divorce.” Emily shook her head. “She hadn’t been taken, like I had. She had left with him in the heat of the moment. Gone with him – whisked away while everyone else was intent on capturing my father alive.”

 

“Because she loved him.” Granny Rags finished for her, gently. “And that love, is what saved his life. Your father spared his life, because he saw in them, the same love he had shared with your mother. The love he could never have given her. And what about Teague Martin, dearie? You were here when he was here. Do you remember Melody? Melody Havelock?”

 

“Admiral Havelock’s daughter?” Granny Rags nodded, and after a moment of thought, Emily nodded. “Yes . . . yes, vaguely. She was kind, and sympathetic to what I was going through. She helped me in my lessons sometimes, and spent time with me . . . when she thought I was lonely.” She shook her head again. “I know her better now as the Widow Lady Pendleton. When it was over, when Havelock lay dead and after I was coronated, she married Treavor Pendleton, had a daughter – Penelope, I think? Anyway, he died, about six years later, from suicide, I think it was? She inherited everything from him due to the daughter – the Pendleton fortune, the mines, the titles, the seats in Parliament . . . and a little while after that, she gave birth to a son. A son she named Callum Martin. He is rumored to be the son of Teague Martin.”

 

Granny Rags gave another nod. “And love saved him too, don’t you doubt it, dearie. The love Melody bore for him, saved him.”

 

Emily shook her head. “Why are you telling me this?” She asked, and Granny Rags released another, gentler, laugh.

 

“My birdies have told me, that there is pressure on you to find a husband. Or at least to sire an heir.”

 

“And . . .?”

 

“And what?” Granny Rags asked as she turned around to face her, brows raised. “Do not be so foolish as to think you have to, dearie. After all, did your mother not bare you without being married to your father? Did Venetica continuing to be married to your father to this day -- continuing to carry his name to this day -- keep her and Daud from raising five children together? Did Melody Havelock marrying Treavor Pendleton, baring him a daughter, and then continuing to use his name and fortune in politics after his death, keep her from baring a bastard child to High Overseer Teague Martin? No, dearie, it did not. And two of those women, grew to become quite powerful, might I add.”

 

There was silence for a moment before Emily spoke, quietly: “Granny Rags, why am I here?”

 

There was another smile on the old woman's face. "Sit down dearie, and let Granny Rags tell you a few stories. Not long -- you'll be out before dinner."

 

Emily shook her head. "Granny --"

 

"You'll want to hear these, dearie. I even have one at the end that might surprise you . . ." Emily stood there in silence for a moment before releasing a slow breath and taking a ginger seat at one of the booths. Granny Rags slid smoothly in the booth seat across from her. "Now, let's begin. Who first? Why . . . let's start with Venetica and Daud . . ."

 


End file.
